


flos fulmināre

by handydandynotebook



Series: primis tenebris flos [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Lives, Complicated Relationships, Delirium, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infection, Major Character Injury, POV Minor Character, Post-Season/Series 03, Relationship Study, Strained Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26906572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handydandynotebook/pseuds/handydandynotebook
Summary: “Why didn’t you call? Or have someone call for you?”Billy blinks glassy eyes up at her as he shivers in spite of sweating like a swine on a spit, hair plastered to his splotchy, flush cheeks.“Call,” he scoffs as if it’s some bad joke. “Right. Because I’m dying for Neil to come up here and hold my hand.”Susan wets her lips and swallows instead of telling him that she would’ve hoped he’d call for her. That she would’ve hoped Billy would know that she cares and realize that how he’s doing is important to her. That he’d care back at least enough to keep her in the loop, if nothing else.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Susan Hargrove
Series: primis tenebris flos [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897387
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	flos fulmināre

**Author's Note:**

> well. this was supposed to be the angst side of the coin to the quiet side of the coin that i was going to end this series on. bc i asked for input and it was one vote quiet piece, two votes angsty piece, and one vote third option that would end up being too long to explore in this series but keeps picking at my brain anyway, which prolly means i'll start a new series. ~~wtf how am i in so deep now, lemme outta here.~~
> 
> but for this series, angst won out. so i tried to write an angst piece and ngl, this is not a fanfic. it was intended to be a fanfic but it's actually just a funhouse mirror projection of my mommy issues poorly disguised as a fanfic ahgkhgjfhjvsjh fucking yikes. whoopsie daisy. tbh dubious abt posting this bc they're glaring like stoplights and it's embarrassing but. y'know what. wtf do i rly have to lose, no embarrassing fanfic could ever hurt me as much as mom, amirite. :')

Susan doesn’t really understand how it happened. She’s told his symptoms started during the night, flulike, nonspecific. Rapid onset, rapid progression, some sort of infection of a source not yet determined, as evidently the first round of blood work came back inconclusive. The fever’s solidly in the triple digits and the assurance he’s on strong broad-spectrum antibiotics isn’t actually all that reassuring.

Susan tries to absorb this information without panicking. It sounds pretty bad but maybe she’s just taking it harder than she ought to because she got caught off guard. Unprepared for what she’s just walked into. She expected this visit to be rather like the one yesterday, the worst news she was anticipating was the possibility Billy overdid it again. 

“Why didn’t you call?” she demands, frowning tensely. “Or have someone call for you?” 

Billy blinks glassy eyes up at her as he shivers in spite of sweating like a swine on a spit, hair plastered to his splotchy, flush cheeks. 

“Call,” he scoffs as if it’s some bad joke. “Right. Because I’m dying for Neil to come up here and hold my hand.” 

“That’s not…not what I meant…” 

“Then what did you mean?” Billy asks, sounding tired rather than argumentative. 

Susan wets her lips and swallows instead of telling him that she would’ve hoped he’d call for her. That she would’ve hoped Billy would know that she cares and realize that how he’s doing is important to her. That he’d care back at least enough to keep her in the loop, if nothing else. But Susan reasons it’s not really fair for her to want even that from Billy. Not now. Not after the years she’s spent finding excuses to be on the other side of the house from whatever room Neil is beating him in, silently ironing shirts or washing baseboards until the belt or the body blows bring Billy to knees. 

A few days worth of decent hospital visits won’t erase all the times Susan’s turned her back to the beatings. They won't fix their barely existent relationship that was broken before it even really began. Billy said it himself, she doesn’t even matter enough for him to hate her. She certainly doesn’t matter enough for him to call. Calling her probably didn’t even cross his mind. 

“I suppose it doesn't matter...anyway, I think Max will want to see you,” Susan says eventually, tucking some loose hair back behind her ear. “Do you mind if I bring her by?” 

Billy blinks slowly. “Sure, do whatever you wanna do, I guess. I don’t care if you guys hang out.” 

“Alright.” Susan gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze and her stomach lurches at the heat radiating from him. “I’ll be back in a little bit.” 

Billy nods and Susan lets go. 

* * *

The first thing Susan does when she gets home is pack a spare blanket from the linen closet into a tote bag. Maybe he’ll want it, maybe he won’t, but it appeared he had the chills, so Susan figures it can’t hurt. It’s a lightweight throw, nothing that would trap too much of his body heat, she doesn’t think. She’s about to go fetch Max from her room when she hears a door open and shut. Max comes down the hall, skateboard tucked under her arm, stopping short in surprise when she sees Susan. 

“Mom? Why are you home so early?” 

Max’s head tips in confusion. 

Susan clears her throat. “Billy’s having a rough go of it today…” 

A worried frown tugs down the corners of her lips. “Is he okay?” 

“He's sick, it's some infection and he didn’t…he didn’t look so good, Max,” Susan admits. 

Alarm sparks in Max’s eyes and Susan’s heart gives a pang. 

“No, don’t panic. You know how sturdy Billy is and he's on heavy duty medicine, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Susan offers her daughter a reassuring smile even though she’s still a bit unnerved by the whole thing. “But we should sit with him for a bit, right? Give him a distraction?” 

“Okay,” Max agrees slowly. She’s still frowning, gaze troubled. “Yeah, let me just put my skateboard back and walkie my friends so they know I’m not coming.” 

Susan nods. 

After she cancels her plans with her friends, Susan watches Max as gathers some things to keep herself occupied, comic books and sheets of Scratch N’ Sniff stickers, her wooden paddleball. Susan does the same, packing her crossword puzzles and word searches along with the blanket. Irresistibly, she considers Neil. Wonders if she should call him at work, tell him what’s going on. 

Ostensibly he would want to know, Billy is still his son. In theory, it would make sense to call him. In fact, he might be angry if Susan doesn’t call once he inevitably finds out later. But on the other hand, he could just as easily be angry with her for bothering him at work if it turns out to be nothing. Or worse, he could leave. He could leave and come join them at the hospital, and Billy— Billy doesn’t need that. 

Susan decides she won’t call and if Neil is angry later for being kept out of the loop, she supposes she’ll just have to deal with it. 

* * *

They must’ve changed his dressings out, because there are bandages in the wastebasket that Susan doesn’t remember seeing earlier. She’s positive she would remember if they'd been there before, because they’re rather perturbing to look at, stained with blood and drainage. It’s a bit jarring too, when she’s confronted with the fact that this is something Billy needs done. 

For how much longer? If he still needs that when he gets released, who’s going to do it for him at home? 

Doesn’t seem likely he could do it himself. Neil almost certainly won’t do it for him. Susan wouldn’t bet on Billy letting her get that close, even if he’s warmed up to her a little bit as of late. That alone might just be wishful thinking on her part. 

“Whatcha watching?” Max looks up to the screen in the corner. 

“Nothing,” Billy mutters, clicking through channels, remote in hand. “There is not shit on today.” 

“Then you wanna see my new comics?” 

“Why would I would want to see your stupid nerd comics?” 

“They’re not stupid, you’re just crabby ‘cause you don’t feel good.” Max takes one out of her bag and wiggles it in her hands. “Come on, there’s nothing on tv anyway.” 

“Alright,” Billy concedes with a sigh, clicking the television off and setting the remote aside. “Whatever.” 

Susan expects her to pull up a chair but she actually swings a leg up, climbing into the bed. 

“Max, watch his ribs,” Susan warns, giving her thumbnail a nervous chew. It’s not a big bed. There isn’t a lot of room. 

“It’s fine,” Billy mutters, glancing Susan’s way over the top of Max’s head. “She’s fine.” 

Susan is acutely struck by how odd the scene before her is. Max, willingly getting right next to Billy, curling up close. Billy not only allowing this without protest, but endorsing it. They seemed so caustic toward each other after the move. Then things gradually got a bit better, yes, but never quite so good that Susan would’ve expected to see this.

“Well, if you’re sure…by the way, um, I brought an extra blanket,” she can’t help adding as she catches a ripple in his frame she’s pretty sure is a shiver. 

“I’m set,” Billy’s nose crinkles and he looks away. 

“Well I want it,” Max decides. 

Oh, Max is clever. Susan feels a small rush of pride as she nods and stands up, freeing the spare throw from her tote bag. She unfolds it and passes it to Max, who pulls it around herself and Billy. Billy doesn’t protest. He settles back and exhales softly as Max flips open her comic book. 

Susan takes out her own puzzle book and contents herself with word searches. She’s getting really good at them. 

A comfortable quiet falls over the room. Susan fills in words and steals glances at the two of them, just sitting close and reading together. It’s definitely sort of surreal. Something changed at Starcourt, of that, Susan is sure, but she thinks it’s the absence of Neil too. 

Because she finds that’s what she’s waiting for. A shout from Neil to dispel everything. For Neil to set Billy off, so he lashes out, wrests the comic out of Max’s hands, rips it down the middle. For Max to scream, Billy to scream louder, Neil to scream loudest. 

With that thought in mind, Susan turns back to the wastebasket. Runs her eyes over the discarded gauze, focuses on the browning blood stains. It’s awful to admit, but she’s dreading the day Billy gets discharged. Not because she doesn’t want him home, but because she’s worried about how things will go for him when he gets there. The Hargrove household is hardly conductive to healing. 

There’s food in the trash too. A nominally nibbled at sandwich stares up at her. Billy didn’t eat. Lunch in the garbage probably means he’s lost his appetite and that adds to Susan’s anxiety. 

She just hopes he’s okay. 

She would be concerned regardless, but is especially on edge considering the loss of his spleen. Susan recalls reading something about infections post splenectomy in one of the informational packets. Some of them could get very dangerous very fast, if she remembers right. She should probably reread them. What did Neil end up doing with those packets anyway? 

Hopefully he just filed them away and didn’t misplace them, or worse, trash them on accident. Neil’s been off-kilter since Billy got hurt. He’s been a bit more scattered, bit more surly, drinking more heavily in the evening and unusually slovenly for his normally strict, stickling kind of self. He’d even mopped up a beer spill with the cable bill the other night, when there were no napkins in reach. Susan had been somewhat disquieted by it, really. 

It’s not like she’s able to bring the changes in Neil’s behavior up to him. If she brings up the drinking or the messiness or the taciturn dinners, he might interpret that as criticism. Susan was always careful not to say anything Neil may interpret poorly, especially not anything that could comes across as criticism. That was precarious territory. That was a swift way to be reminded of everything she wasn’t, that she has no place to be ungrateful when it is Neil who provides and protects, and she should not dare question what it is his protection looks like. 

Susan feels her anxiety ratcheting up and doesn’t realize she’s clicking her pen nonstop until— 

“Jesus, that’s annoying.” Billy scowls at her over Max’s head. 

“Hey! I told you to be nicer to my mom.” 

“Well, tell your mom to stop being annoying.” 

Max rolls her comic like a newspaper and she doesn’t swat him, but she does give a few reprimanding shakes.

Billy rolls his eyes, looks from her to Susan again. “Seriously, Susan, stuck on a word or something?” 

And she can’t very well speak her worries, so she swallows and takes the excuse. 

“It's that obvious, huh? Do either of you have a four letter word for corn units?” 

“That’s not even hard,” Billy grunts. “Rows. We’re in Indiana, fucking rows and rows of corn everywhere. Just look out the window.” 

Max reproachfully nudges his shoulder and unrolls her book. 

Susan scrawls it in. “You’re right. It fits.” 

The comfortable quiet resumes. For awhile, the only sound is the gentle _fwip_ of paper when either she or Max turns a page. Then at the conclusion of one of Max’s comics, Billy asks her a question. 

“So how are all your weird friends doing? After everything…” 

Susan glances up. 

“They’re okay,” Max answers, shooting Susan a look so quick she almost doesn’t catch it. “Mostly anyway.” 

“How about that girl?”

There’s a weird look on Billy’s face. Susan doesn’t know what to make of it, hopes he isn’t being inappropriate with any of Max’s friends. She doesn’t think it’s anything like that though, Max’s response doesn't indicate that. Her frown is a mournful one, there isn’t any hint of disgust in her expression. 

“El lost someone really important to her but she’s hanging in there.”

“Shit,” Billy mutters. “That sucks.” 

“You didn’t tell me your friend lost a loved one,” Susan pipes in. “I would’ve made a casserole for you to give to her family.” 

Max’s brows knit together. “It just never came up. You’ve been pretty busy lately and besides, you don’t even know her.” 

Susan is aware of this but sending a plant or a casserole is what Neil would’ve wanted her to do. A kind gesture to keep up their reputation as a respectable family. She hates that this is the first thing she thinks of. The gesture Neil would’ve wanted her to perform, rather than what would actually be the best way to offer condolences and comfort to Max’s poor friend, a young girl suddenly struck with grief.   
  
An interruption from a nurse saves Susan the discomfort of further reflecting on this. The busty one with the bountiful watermelon breasts that frankly even Susan can’t help staring at— Kahuna, curses, no— Karla or Cora, or something like that, flashes them all warm smiles. She changes out the IV bags and gently asks Max to get down from the bed so she can get another blood sample. Billy extends his arm with a compliant ease Susan isn’t used to from him and she thanks him sweetly before filling up two vials. 

“Whoa,” Max exhales when she leaves. 

“Yeah.” Billy cracks a devilish grin. “Best thing about this place besides the drugs.” 

“Were those real?” Max asks sheepishly, pink creeping into her cheeks. 

“Maxine.” Susan gives her a reproachful look. 

“Felt pretty real to me,” Billy claims, lips twitching smugly. 

“Eww, gross.” Max wrinkles her nose and pins him with a glare. 

“Good grief, Billy, that’s appalling,” Susan admonishes, giving him a stern stare of her own. 

She’s positive he’s bluffing. He must be. Susan would’ve heard about it if he did anything inappropriate. She always stops at the information desk before she visits him, she’d know if he’d crossed a line with any of the staff. 

Billy just rolls his eyes and idly picks at the small square of gauze taped to the inside of his elbow. 

Max restlessly shuffles up and down the diameter of the room, stretches her arms over her head and drops them back to her sides. A thoughtful look crosses her face and she turns to Susan. 

“Do you still have a brush in your purse, Mom?” 

“Um, yes.” Susan’s a bit bemused. Max always groans or huffs when Susan gets on her about brushing her hair. About any grooming and beautification, most of the time. 

“Hey, Billy, you want me to brush your hair?” 

“What? No.” He narrows his eyes. 

“You sure?” Max rests a hand on her hip. “You’re so vain, isn't it driving you crazy that it’s tangled in such a rat’s nest?" 

“Hey! Screw you!” 

"I'm just trying to help!” 

“I’m not vain!” 

“Oh please, you’d make out with your reflection if you could.”

“Already have a headache, Max, last thing I need is you yanking on my hair.” 

“Okay.” Susan claps her hands together. “That’s enough. How about we see what’s on tv?” 

Billy snorts and thumbs the remote with more aggression than Susan feels necessary. The imagery that appears on the screen is familiar, though for a moment, she can’t quite place it. Black and white, Kevin McCarthy…

“Ah,” she says as it clicks. “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”

Billy jolts like he’s been struck, hastily grabbing for this plastic bean shaped bin on the bedside table Susan hadn't noticed earlier. He drops the remote in his scramble. It hits the floor with a clatter, the batteries popping out and rolling across the tile. Bin in hand, he vomits. 

Susan flinches at the sound of fluid hitting the plastic. She rises to her feet as it happens a second time, Max crouching and crawling after the batteries. Susan steps around her, hands fluttering nervously. She isn’t sure how well Billy would receive it if she tried to rub his back or his shoulder. Max quickly smacks the batteries back into the remote and switches the channel with a haste Susan doesn't really understand, but doesn't have time to dwell on as Billy keeps bringing up bile. 

Susan hovers for around moment or so as Billy’s productive purging turns into dry retching. She charily takes the bin from him, rinses it out in the small, private bathroom adjacent to the room proper. There isn’t much to the contents. It’s just thin, watery bile with a bit of froth. Swirls down the drain with no issue. 

When Susan slips back into the room, Max is on the bed again. She and Billy are shoulder to shoulder even though they’d been as riled up as a couple of alleycats less than five minutes ago. Billy sips from the straw of a styrofoam cup while Max channel surfs. 

He glances over as Susan puts the bin back, frowns ruefully down at it. She studies him without trying to make it obvious, her gut giving a sympathetic tug. Poor thing just looks awfully ill. Flushed so fiercely, malaise written into every feature. Susan isn’t sure if she expects him to puke again or conk right out. 

Turns out to be the latter. Max puts on a game show that Billy dozes off to halfway through. Susan decides it’s probably a good time to leave. Give herself some time to straighten up at home before she gets dinner prepared, the latter of which has to be on the table and ready for Neil's arrival, of course. 

She motions for Max to get down from the bed, whispers for her to get her things together. Max obliges. She slides down on light feet and tucks her comics and sticker sheets back into her satchel. Susan heads for the door and Max follows, tugging at her sleeve before she crosses the threshold. 

“What about your stuff?” she asks quietly. 

Susan glances over her shoulder, at her tote and stacked up puzzle books. 

“I’ll get it later. I’m coming back.” 

Susan pauses, blinking in surprise. The thing is, she hadn’t even realized that was her plan until she spoke it aloud. 

* * *

Dinner is quiet and it’s not the comfortable quiet of earlier today, Susan musing over her word searches, Max and Billy reading comics. It’s an uncertain, uneasy quiet. Neil is on his second beer before he even finishes his sides. The way his silverware clinks against the plate feels like a warning. 

The quiet lasts until dessert when Neil briefly pauses and lowers his fork instead of jabbing it in the meringue.

“How’s Billy?”

“Not great,” Max mutters, worry twisting her lips. 

“What did I say about mumbling at the dinner table, Maxine?” Neil gives her a hard look. “You speak to me properly or you don’t speak at all.” 

Max stares back at him. There’s a spark in her eye that makes Susan think she might actually challenge him, so she clears her throat and gives Max a pointed warning look of her own. Max drops her gaze to her plate and readjusts the grip on her fork. 

“Sorry, sir.” 

“Thank you. Now about Billy?” Neil turns to Susan. 

“Well, he’s got an infection. They’re treating him for it, of course, but he was still feverish when we left.” 

“Eh, he’s a strong boy.” Neil takes another long swig of beer. “He’ll sweat it out.” 

“Of course,” Susan says agreeably because Neil likes it when she is agreeable and he may not necessarily like what she’s going to say next. “Even so, I think I’d like to stay with him tonight. Just to keep an eye on him until he shakes it off.” 

Surprise flashes across Neil’s face. “Really?” 

“Mhm. That’s okay, isn’t it?” 

Neil downs the rest of his drink and nods. “I don’t see why not, as long as you’re up for it. I don’t want you exhausting yourself over him, though.” 

“Oh, I’m fine.” Susan waves her hand and smiles. “Honestly, I think I drank one too many cups of afternoon coffee. I’m so wide awake, I’m wired.” 

“Hm.” Neil leaves it at that and gets himself a forkful of meringue. 

Max helps Susan clear the table but she cleans the rest of the kitchen herself. When she’s just getting ready to leave, Neil slips in from the living room. He sidles up to her with an unreadable look and fans his hand over the side of her neck. Susan feels her pulse jump under his fingers as his thumb slides beneath her chin. He pushes up, tilting her head back so far it’s almost painful. 

“Neil—“ 

“You’re really going to sit with Billy for the night?” he asks, every word clear and firm. “You’re not trying to pull anything on me, are you, Susan?” 

“No,” she gasps out as her blood runs cold. “Pull anything? Neil, I'd never.” 

Neil measures her up. Studies every inch of her face with calculating eyes. 

“The phone number for Billy’s room is on the refrigerator, remember?” Susan urges lightly, trying her best to be outwardly calm. “You can call any time and I’ll pick up.” 

Eventually Neil nods and draws his hand away from her neck. 

“Sorry, Susan. I know you’re loyal, I shouldn’t be accusing you of anything. Actually, I should be thanking you.” Neil sighs out heavily and rakes a hand through his hair. “You're a real lifesaver for taking care of all this hospital shit. You’re a lot better at it than I am.” 

Susan balks, completely taken off guard. 

“Lord knows Billy’s a screwup but he’s still my son. It’s hard to see him there…laid low like that.” Neil shifts grim eyes to the floor. 

“I get it,” Susan murmurs even though she doesn’t, actually. If it were Max in the hospital she’d have slept there every night this week and that's just the beginning of the two very, very different ways she and Neil approach parenting. “I’ll call you if I have anything to report, okay?” 

She kisses him just so on the corner of the mouth and does her best to smile at him when she pulls away, even with the sour taste of beer lingering on her lips. 

* * *

Billy is worse when Susan gets back to the hospital. In and out, wracked with full body trembles from chills. Fever’s still raging its way through him. She can’t bring herself to ask what will happen if he fails to have any meaningful response to the antibiotics. If they’ll order a different combination or run more tests, or even cut him open again. Her stomach squirms at that terrifying thought. 

The shapely nurse suggests she call his father with this severity in her voice that urges Susan to gnaw her nails. Susan takes a long look at Billy and tells her it won’t be necessary. Neil would certainly come if he knew it was this bad. And that’s where the problem lies, because Billy is having a hard enough time without Neil here. Susan pulls her chair all the way up to the bed, her knees skimming the mattress. 

Billy’s a tough nut but all of this has been so hard on him. The last thing he needed was this. 

Susan is especially rattled because she’d just begun to feel sure he was going to be okay. He was eating solid food, feeling well enough to be restless, energetic enough to overdo it, even. Due to be discharged next week. As soon as Susan was sure Billy was safe from any backsliding, he got hit with an infection and here he is, lobster red with fever flush and fully drenched in sweat. It snuck up on him and sank in its teeth. 

He got so sick so fast and Susan is so, so scared. 

She can’t help it. She breaks down. She’s scared for Billy in ways she’s never been scared before and she can’t do a single thing to help. She’s as useless by his bedside here as she is on the other side of the wall at home, holding her breath until the sounds of violence vanish. Susan hides her face in her hands as she blubbers like an infant. Shoulders hunched, stomach twisted in ropes, she carries on until she’s lightheaded. 

“Damn, you’re noisy,” Billy grouses, peering at her from the glassy corner of his eye. 

“I’m sorry,” she gasps out, sniffling, hadn’t even realized Billy was aware. She brushes away the tear tracks with the back of her sleeve. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I just…I’m sorry.” 

“Calm down, pretty sure I’m not dying.” He closes his eyes. 

“No, of course not,” Susan whimpers hastily, her hand making a dart toward his. She jerks, stopping just short of touching, her fingers hovering over Billy’s so close the sickly sear of his body heat prickles against them. 

“If getting turned into a pincushion by that giant scary ass thing couldn’t kill me, nothing can kill me,” he says dully. “Nothing can kill me, m’not gonna die.” 

Giant scary thing? 

“Pardon?” Susan asks gently, realizing Billy must be delirious. 

“Not gonna die, even if I should.” 

“Wait, what?” Susan stammers, jolting in her seat. 

Billy’s eyes flutter open, liquid bright, shocking blue against the inflamed flush of his cheeks, beads of sweat sprinkling his skin. 

“When he’s whaling on me, sometimes Neil rattles off about how I’m too much like my mom. You know, you’ve heard him. Says I’m so much like my mom it makes him sick,” Billy scrapes out in defeat. “But all I've got is time to think and I realized he’s wrong, it’s him I’m like. He should die and I’m just fucking like him. I get it now, I get my mom. ‘Cause my mom— that’s, that’s gotta be why she didn’t take me with her. She knew I was gonna be exactly fuckin’ like him.” 

Billy gives a small head shake and looks up at the ceiling. “I finally understand.” 

Susan swallows thickly and her hand quivers down the last inch or so, until it’s resting over his. Her heart rips in two right inside her chest. She yearns to comfort him, but there’s a great lump in her throat and she just can’t find the words. 

He turns to face her upon the contact, glancing down their hands. He stares for a long moment, breath rushing out in a fraught series of puffs. 

“I’m sorry,” he babbles on anxiously. “I’m just like him and I’m sorry, I’m sorry but I still didn’t— I didn’t mean it—“ 

“Billy,” Susan cuts in, clearing her throat, giving his hand a nervous squeeze. “Look, Billy, you’re sick. Just get better now, okay?” 

He blinks at her wearily and Susan dares to give his hand another squeeze. 

“Get better first.” She lets go and moves to his cheek, febrile skin scorching in her palm, perspiration slick between her fingers. “Worry about being sorry and whatever else you want to worry about when you’re better.” 

Susan implores him with her eyes. 

A shallow sigh shudders out of him and Billy slowly nods into her hand. 

“Besides,” Susan adds, “you’re not just like him.” 

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.” 

Susan thinks of the way her stomach drops when Billy raises his voice, same way it drops whenever Neil does. She thinks of those glares he shoots her at home sometimes, ice cold and blade sharp, so akin to the ones Neil sends her way if she’s done something to displease him or spoken out of turn. She thinks of how Billy can turn the charm on if it he knows it’ll suit him, just like a light switch, with the smooth, effortless ease his father does. She irresistibly draws comparisons and she can’t believe they’re false but none of that is what she tells him. 

What she tells him is no less true and to Susan it is the most important thing, because Max is whole and healthy. Max is home safe in her bed. Safe and sound when she could’ve been here instead. When she could’ve been worse, so much worse, comatose or in the ground. All her little friends too. 

“I know Neil wouldn’t do what you did at the mall,” Susan promises, sweeping sweat soaked hair out of Billy’s face. After a heartbeat of hesitation, she stands to bow and brushes her lips over his burning forehead. 

“I know that much, okay? I know it for a fact.” 

He slowly blinks at Susan as if he doesn’t quite comprehend what’s just happened. But he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t snap or snarl for her to back off. She slowly sits back down. 

Susan wants to believe it means they’re getting somewhere but knows she shouldn’t put too much stock in it. Figures it’d be foolish to get her hopes up. She should just chalk it up to the delirium. A lucid Billy would never let her kiss him. A lucid Billy wouldn’t speak to her so openly to begin with. Susan should probably feel guilty for letting him continue as long as she did, rambling on about things he definitely wouldn’t tell her if his mind was anywhere close to clear. 

“Come on, have some water.” Susan picks the cup up from the bedside table and bends the straw with her thumb, bringing it to his lips. 

Billy frowns but Susan can’t tell if it’s because he’s uninterested in drinking or if it’s because even as out of it as he is, he has qualms about her telling him what to do. But she tries to encourage him anyway. 

“Fluids are your friend. You have to stay hydrated if you’re going to fight this off, hm?” Susan spares a nervous smile, strokes through his hair with her free hand. “Please?” 

Surely he can fight it off, right? All Billy does is fight. It’s what he knows best. 

Her stepson’s fingers skim hers as he wraps them around the cup. She lets him have it, watches him take a few sips. He puts it back on the table. Goes quiet after that, eyelids drooping closed. Susan tentatively continues to stroke his hair, fingers gingerly brushing over sweaty tangles. 

She’d like to think she’s doing it to comfort him but since a lucid Billy would never let her, that’s probably a lie. She’s probably just comforting herself. Always needs something to do with her hands when she’s anxious, doesn’t she. 

He mutters on and off about some shadow and something not being his fault. Susan doesn’t rouse him enough to ask what, isn’t sure he’d have an answer for her even if she did. He’s so out of it, probably isn’t even aware he’s saying anything, let alone understands what it is he’s saying. 

Eventually his mutterings stop. Susan tiredly leans in her chair, arms folding on the bed. She rests her head in them, cheek squished to her sweater sleeve, eyes on Billy. Her fingers play at a crease in the sheets. They’re going to need a good wash, damp and stale with Billy’s sweat. Susan wonders who it is she’s supposed to ask about that or if she is even supposed to ask. She’d passed a housekeeping cart in the hall a couple days ago, she'd assume that's the department in charge of linens. 

Susan wonders how upset Billy would be if she slept here, just like this. Head pillowed in her arms on his bed. He definitely wouldn’t appreciate it, so Susan will have to be sure not to do that. To pick herself up before she finds herself drifting off…

  
(She’s woken a few times during the night, when nurses shuffle in and out or when Billy throws up in that small bean shaped bin on the table. It’s never a full, clear wakefulness. Always groggy and dim, slumber still clinging to her, this halfway state between awake and asleep. It’s during one of these drowsy, surreal spaces in time that Susan could swear Billy’s hand curls around her arm. Could swear she feels fingers tucking into the inside of her elbow, a ginger squeeze. Must be her mind playing tricks on her, her own sleepy dreamy delirium.)

* * *

When Susan wakes up for real, it’s to a rather annoying scraping sound. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, recall she’d fallen asleep on Billy’s bed. She jerks up to find him peering at her, unblinking as he drags a spork around the inside of a plastic applesauce cup. 

“Hi,” she exhales. 

“Hi,” Billy returns quietly.

Susan sits up straighter, folding her fingers as she studies him. He looks worn out, but not remotely as bad as he did last night. The flush in his cheeks isn’t nearly so ferocious, and he isn’t sweating buckets anymore. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like the biggest pile of cow shit in a podunk town full of nothing but cow shit,” he mutters, once again dragging the spork around the cup. 

It scrapes obnoxiously but Susan finds some relief in noting the cup is mostly empty. He’s eating. That’s a good sign. 

“Mind if I…?” Susan tentatively reaches up. 

Billy licks a smidgen of applesauce off the spork and shrugs his shoulders. 

She lightly brushes some of his fringe aside and slides her hand over his forehead. Quiet heat smolders under her palm, like holding a mug of fresh coffee. He’s certainly feverish but he isn’t roasting the way he was last night and her hand doesn’t come back slick with sweat. 

“I don’t really get you,” he says, looking at her levelly. 

Susan swallows, tongue nervously swiping over her lips. 

“I mean, you barely talk to me for years, now you’re spending the night here and shit, crying over me…” 

Of course he’d think this is the first time she’s cried over him. 

“Billy.” Susan inclines her head. “Did you ever want me to talk to you?” 

“No,” he answers, dropping the applesauce cup into the trash. “I’m not sure I want you to talk to me now, either, but you won’t go away.” 

They’re blunt words but he doesn’t bark them like he could, doesn’t snarl at her like an ornery beast or spit them at her with a curled lip. He just sounds honest. Honest and utterly enervated. 

“I can go if I’m really upsetting you,” Susan says, chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

She has to check in on how he’s doing but she doesn’t have to visit if she’s really bothering him that much. She could just go to the information desk. Keep herself updated on everything at a distance and give him a wide berth. She has plenty of experience giving Billy a wide berth. 

“There’s a lot of things that suck about my life right now, Susan,” Billy mutters flatly. “You hanging out, being all talkative doesn’t even make it on the top ten list. It’s just…I don’t understand.”

He’d been pretty talkative himself last night. Susan wonders if he remembers any of that. But she won’t bring it up. Whether he remembers or not, nothing he told her was anything he’d repeat now, she’s sure. If she brings it up, she’s bound to make him uncomfortable on top of unwell. She doesn’t need to do that to him. 

“I told you, you came through for Max when it really mattered,“ Susan murmurs, soft and sincere. “That means a lot to me. More than you’ll ever know. A mother’s worst fear is—“ she abruptly breaks off when Billy’s rambling about his own mother abruptly springs to mind. 

“— _my_ worst fear is losing her. And you didn’t let that happen, so the least I can do is be here for you.” 

“You are giving me way too much credit for that,” Billy says, brow furrowing. “And you’re assuming I want you around.” 

“No, no. I’d never assume that.” Susan gives a tiny head shake, grimacing tightly. “Of course I’m the last person you want around. But sometimes what we want and what we need are different things.” 

“Oh, so you think I need you?” he huffs like it’s the boldest claim he’s ever heard. 

“I think you need support,” she says, holding his gaze even though it makes her a bit nervous. In all reality he’s needed support for a long time and she’s failed to rise to any and every occasion, but that was then and this is now, and if Billy could rise to the occasion that landed him here, Susan can do her best to rise too. “This is a pretty big deal, Billy. You can’t walk this one off or kick back the booze until you forget about it.”

“…shit, I know,” he sighs like it’s an admission of defeat. “This place sucks but I don’t really want to go back to the house, either. Neil’s gonna start bitching about medical bills as soon as I walk through the door.” 

“Don’t worry about that right now,” she insists. “Just get—“ 

“Just get better, yeah, you said that already.” He looks away. 

_Oh._

So he does remember. That part of the conversation, at least. 

“You’re not the last person I want around, Susan,” Billy mumbles, eyes firmly fixed on the plaid pattern of the throw blanket she’d brought. “That’d be Neil. And you didn’t call him last night even when Nurse Boobs told you to, so I guess you don’t suck as much as I thought you did.” 

Wow. That might be the nicest thing he’s ever said to her. Warmth flickers in her chest and she spares a tight smile. 

“I need to stretch my legs for a bit and I’d better get home so I can make your dad breakfast before work.” Susan pushes her chair back and stands, wincing at the slight stiffness in her back from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. “I’ll come back after and I’m sure Max will want to come too. That’s okay, isn’t it?” 

“Don’t you have to go back to work?” Billy frowns, squints uncertainly. “Today’s…Thursday?” 

“Friday. And no, I won’t be going back today.” 

“Right, I guess that’d be stupid since you don’t work weekends. Might as well push it till Monday.” 

Susan isn’t taking it off because she wants the long weekend, of course. Billy’s more important than telemarketing and she wants to stay close. She’s still a little shook up from the night before, even feels a tad apprehensive about leaving now even though she won’t be gone for long. 

“Do you want me to bring you anything?” Susan pauses. “Don’t say beer or cigarettes.” 

“Porn.”

Susan gives him a dry look but finds she can’t be all that annoyed. The smile on his face, snide and sly though it is, is a welcome change from the delirium and distress of last night. 

**Author's Note:**

> ~~i'm going to write the quiet piece too. and that one will be the *real* ending of this series since this turned into...yeah. and the expansion wherein the dynamics going forward in the home setting will be explored will either be a longer piece or its own series taking place post the quiet piece.~~
> 
> edit 10-23-20: scratch all of the above, series ends here. sequel piece is still possibility but i scrapped my initial wip for it.
> 
> comments moderated on this one on the off chance some nosey rosy tries to ask me personal shit. we ain't doing that.


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